Possible

Before you were born

You were called by everything that seemed to fit the imprint of your future shadow

Curled up into a ball

More often than not words like

Monolith

And Curator

Were caressed

Through your mother’s belly and into

Your dreaming ears

Sometimes they called you Globe

Other times World Devourer

Maybe Atlas on a good day.

When you were born

Your parents tried to condense these feelings into a name that was easier to pronounce than

The-Greatest-Hope-Our-Bodies-Could-Ever-Produce-When-We-Released-Our-Love-Through-The-Touching-Of-Our-Skin-In-The-Only-Good-Morning-That-Ever-Bothered-To-Stick-Around

They gave you a human name.

But do not let those seemingly ordinary syllables dictate your potential

You are a lifeboat made of smiles

And for all your oceans

You have not sunk just yet

So grab at life like it owes you

As if taking it in both your fists is the only way it will repay its debt to you

Use its shirt as a sail

Cast the buttons like the knuckle bones of fortune tellers

When the answers come

Do not let the boat that you are rock out its last song

Remember the days when you were only

30 percent terra ferma, 30 percent concrete and certainties

30 percent holy dirt and dust

We are all dirt and dust

Floating in the shape of people

But we contain so much more

We are all oceans and sail boats

But we contain so much more

We are all born lighthouse planets in a vast galaxy of possibility

And we contain

Everything

We are

Everything

All it takes is for us to reach out and take it.

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